


Punishable offenses

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Humour, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 05:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: Sherlock has come back (or, the hug was just a beginning.)





	Punishable offenses

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Czyny karalne](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826671) by [Winnetou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnetou/pseuds/Winnetou). 



Lestrade is walking across the underground car park. He stops and pats his pockets, looking for a lighter. He finds it and clumsily removes one cigarette from the packet. He had almost beat the addiction, but what happened two years ago forced him to return to it. He hears something like a bottle kicked over, but when he looks in that direction, he doesn't see anyone. Maybe it's an animal lurking in the shadows. He's about to light the cigarette when he hears a familiar voice from the darkness. The voice he has lost hope to hear again.

'Those things will kill you.'

He freezes. This cannot be true. They buried him. He went to the funeral and saw the coffin with his own eyes, saw it being lowered into the grave. He saw John, the expression on his face couldn't be faked. It has to be fatigue. Lately, he has been overworking and he sleeps poorly. Actually, it has been like that for two years.

And yet he sees a tall figure in the dark, the coat, the curly hair. And that familiar gait. Greg doesn't believe in ghosts. He's a police officer and he believes in evidence. And now the most irrefutable evidence steps into the light.

'Oh, you bastard.'

Greg lowers his hands and looks at an approaching Sherlock. The detective practically hasn't changed during these two years. He's maybe a bit slimmer, but he still wears the same, conceited expression. He is saying something, sounds amused, but Lestrade doesn't listen. He only notices Sherlock again used the wrong name and although he's sure he did that on purpose, he corrects him out of habit.

'Greg!'

'Greg.'

When he hears that, something breaks inside him. He grabs Sherlock and pulls him into a tight hug. Now he can clearly tell how much thinner Sherlock is. He also feels him tense under his touch, but he doesn't mind.

'I don't know if I want to strangle you now or kiss you,' Greg says, despite a lump in his throat.

'A detective inspector shouldn't make death threats,' Sherlock replies and only now does Greg register it's true, it's not a hallucination of his exhausted mind. Without a word, he drags Holmes into the shadows, between the pillars and shoves him against one of them. He pressed him into the pillar with his body and closes his mouth with a greedy kiss.

Sherlock quickly stops pretending and loses his composure. He pulls Greg closer, returning the kiss with equal passion. It's wet and messy, desperate and longed-for. By the both of them. Greg sucks and nips Sherlock's lips, slides his hand into his soft curls. He forgot how good that feels. Sherlock moans into his mouth impatiently. His hands clutch Greg's clothes, not letting him pull away even for a centimetre. Greg doesn't want to pull away. They break the kiss only when they are out of breath.

'It's a police car park. Aren't you afraid someone will see us?' Holmes asks, breathlessly.

'No one will come here,' Greg replies, kissing and nipping at his neck. Sherlock moans again.

'Cameras?'

'We're out of their range.'

Lestrade crushes him against the pillar with the weight of his body. His hard penis rubs into Sherlock's thigh, he can easily feel his erection, too. He kisses his sexy lips again and doesn't stop moving his hips. Sherlock doesn't even try to keep his voice level.

'Ah, inspector! Inspector...! Greg!'

Lestrade feels a shiver run his spine and it explodes somewhere in the back of his head. His body shivers. Despite his assurance, he knows someone can walk in on them, but it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters except the fact that Sherlock is alive.

'Say that again. One more time, Sherlock. Please, say my name!'

'Greg! Oh, Greg!'

Lestrade pushes his hand between their bodies. He grabs Sherlock's through his clothes and squeezes, forcing another moan from him. His own penis throbs. Somehow he manages to unfasten their zips with one hand. He takes both cocks in his hand, squeezes them together and revels in their weight and warm. He missed that. Above his ear, Sherlock is gasping.

'Please. Now, Greg, now...'

Greg moves his hand, stroking them both. They are wet from the pre-ejaculate, he doesn't need lube. His hand is sliding over them faster. It feels so good he cannot control his breathing. The closeness of their bodies and the roughness of their clothes only intensify the sensation. Sherlock is louder now and Greg has to silence him with a kiss.

'A little more! A little more,' Holmes whimpers, his voice is faint because he doesn't pull away from Lestrade's lips. Greg doesn't answer, he only speeds up and tightens his grip. With his free hand, he catches a handful of his hair and pulls his head back to reveal his neck. He bites the pale skin and starts to suck, the mark quickly turns dark. He leaves several more. Pain and pleasure blend together and Sherlock lets out a cry, then a scream when he comes. Greg also finishes as he sinks his teeth into the other's body. Hot semen trickles down his hand, stains their clothes and drips to the ground.

They stay there, waiting for the world to stop shaking. Their breaths come back to normal and the shivers become faint. Greg rests his head on Sherlock's shoulder and embraces him. The detective presses his cheek to his hair.

'You came back,' Greg whispers.

'I came back,' Sherlock whispers back. Lestrade feels the vibration in his chest.

'John will kill you when he finds out and I will have to cover his tracks.'

'He's already tried. I hope he commits crimes more effectively than he solves them. And your complicity probably won't help.'

'Hey! You come back after two years as if nothing happened and you're still so mean.'

'Sorry, force of habit. I'm glad to see you. I haven't received a more enthusiastic welcome.'

'I should think so!'

'Greg?'

'Yes?'

'Your new flat is pretty close, isn't it?'

'It is. You've checked that?'

'Of course.'

'And?'

'I'm hoping your enthusiasm hasn't worn off yet.'

Greg laughs, lifts his head and kisses Sherlock. The car park is dark, cold and gloomy, but he feels warm and light. He rubs against Holmes, who moans shamelessly. They are still hard.

'I think I'll cope with your demands, but you'll have to control your voice. I'd like my neighbours to still think I'm a calm, respectable man.'

'Well, it wouldn't be the first time I tarnished your reputation.'

**Author's Note:**

> I knew Sherlock knew Greg's real name and used it in these situations.


End file.
